


Fall Like a Thunderbolt

by andthenweburned (dragonardhill)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bottom Jack Kline, Come as Lube, Jack’s pretty pink nips and hole are the star of this show, M/M, Needy Jack Kline, Nipple Play, Possessive Dean Winchester, Rimming, Spit As Lube, Top Dean Winchester, War Table Sex, light dom/sub tone, porn without much plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:29:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27284959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonardhill/pseuds/andthenweburned
Summary: Dean’s gotten used to being grateful things aren’t worse.  When Sam gets hurt on a hunt, Dean gets everyone taken care, settled down for the night and then takes himself into the dark of the bunker with a bottle of the good stuff.  Jack finds him.  Turns out they could both use a distraction.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Jack Kline/Dean Winchester, Jack Kline/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 65





	Fall Like a Thunderbolt

Low light from the doorway paints a shadowy path to the lone figure spilled over one of the many 50’s-era chairs surrounding the darkened war room table. Slouched, chin tucked to his chest, feet on the floor with his legs fully stretched out in front, Dean’s cupped hand rests on a nearly empty antique whiskey tumbler perched atop denim-covered knee. His pointer finger slowly traces wet amber around the glass rim. Worn, weary shoulders tense despite the relaxed pose, late hour, and half empty bottle.

Swirling the last amber dredges, Dean’s eyes track the gentle slosh. Silently, he tosses his head back emptying it in one go, long past enjoying the smooth, smoky finish. Taste has nothing to do with the quickly lowering level in the bottle on this night. Could have saved washing a glass, he thinks, finally feeling a slight buzz. No one sharing this bottle anyway. Sam won’t be drinking for a while given the level of pain killers he’ll need over the next few weeks. 

Regardless, Dean finds himself refilling the glass instead of bypassing the niceties. Baby brother’s disappointed scrunchy face when he sees Dean drinking straight from the bottle, pointed look at Jack’s watchful eyes, still influencing Dean even as he sits alone in the quiet dark. As if drinking straight from the whiskey bottle isn’t possibly the least egregious of the bad influences the Winchesters have had on young Jack Kline. Christ, the irony, he smiles ruefully.

Unfortunately, thoughts of Sam and Jack pull him back into the horrific events of earlier in the day. His grip clenches the whiskey glass as he replays that wraith-bitch plunging a knife into Sam’s lower abdomen just before Dean’s silver blade pierced her heart. They ended her killing spree which included 3 at a nearby prison but at a price that has Dean reaching for the bottle again. He tries and fails to block out seeing his world stumble, bloody hands pressed to the deep wound, eyes wide with shock and pain as he sinks to the floor. Jack’s terrified scream of “NO!” ringing in Dean’s ears.

Fuck. He needs another drink.

With Jack and Cas both powered down, Sam’s healing the old fashioned way. Thank god, or whatever, that Sam twisted his body just enough that nothing crucial was hit by the ugly blade. And isn’t it a sad reflection on his life that it’s cause for celebration that only Sam’s skin and muscle were sliced through.

Dean patched Sam up in the bunker infirmary with Jack hovering, fretting. Dean considered reassuring the kid, Sam has had hundreds of injuries over the years and this doesn’t even make the top ten. Somehow Dean didn’t think that tidbit would make Jack feel any better. It certainly doesn’t do anything for Dean’s peace of mind.

After patching Sam up, Dean managed to get them all situated in bed with Jack curled up on Sam’s uninjured side, sweetly holding his brother’s oversized hand like he’s afraid to let go. Blissfully doped on painkillers, Sam smacked kissy-lips at his big brother until Dean dropped a quick peck on soft drug-loose lips with a fond shake of his head. Satisfied, loopy-Sam pressed a sweet kiss to Jack’s waiting pouty lips, mumbled a few sleepy reassurances about being fine, then dropped off to sleep with Jack following just as quickly.

Dean watched them for a long time, listening to their quiet breathing, before slipping out from under the covers. He tucked Sam’s soft hair behind his ear with a lingering touch over the softly thrumming pulse point in his brother’s neck, before moving out into the bunker in search of a well-earned bottle.

Dean’s gotten used to being grateful things aren’t worse. The warm whiskey burn has tamped down his residual fear and most of his self-recrimination leaving a welcome glowing warmth that means he might be able to get some sleep tonight after all, when he hears a small voice break into his thoughts.

“Dean?”

Backlit shadow stands uncertain in the doorway. Dean takes in Jack’s bare legs and messy bed-head. He’s dwarfed in a grey v-neck tee that hangs off one shoulder, down to bare mid-thigh.

“Hey Sweetheart.” Dean forces a smile and tries for lightness. “Sam know you stole his shirt?”

Small, uncertain smile, “He won’t mind. He…he…,” Jack motions vaguely in the direction of their room looking back over his shoulder before stuttering to a stop, wringing his hands together. Wide eyes seek Dean’s in the shadows, “He’s going to be okay, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Jack.” Dean sits up, pivots the chair toward Jack, “Sam’s gonna be fine. Come here, baby.”

Dean barely gets his drink on the table before Jack launches into his lap, seems the kid is intent on doing his best to wrap himself completely around him. Jack’s heat pressed into every nook, soaking up strength and giving back comfort. For long minutes they stay that way, wrapped around each other. Dean holds Jack close, a hand stroking his head, soft kisses at his temple. It’s a blessing and curse that Jack doesn’t have the experience of seeing people he loves get hurt as much Dean does.

“You’re worried too,” Jack says, words muffled into the strong chest beneath him. He sits up a fraction, legs spread on either side of strong thighs, gaze searching Dean’s face for any sign of untruth.

Green-eyed gaze is steady when he reassures Jack. “Yeah. When you love someone you always worry about them but Sam will be fine.” Dean pats a bare leg comfortingly. “He just needs time to heal.”

The kid fixes Dean with a look, measuring. Dean figures he must see what he needs because he nods his head in acceptance and a look of relief. Dean pushes floofy bangs out of Jack’s eyes, moving a hand down to hold Jack’s face, runs a thumb over whisper soft cheek.

“You wanna head back to bed?”

A quick beat, Jack’s eyes narrow a fraction before he drops them to his lap, shakes his head no. “Not tired,” he mumbles, slim hips shift slightly. There’s a measured pause and then he slowly turns to nuzzle into the hand cupping his cheek. Soft eyes back up to catch Dean’s with a decidedly more sultry look, pink tongue darts out, unmistable invitation in the soft kitten licks and suckles along the pulse point of Dean’s wrist.

Shaking his head in fondness, Dean watches the lightning quick transformation from sweet to sex-kitten. There’s a bare-legged squeeze, a more pronounced grind, and the puckered slick sounds of Jack’s mouth loud in the otherwise quiet room. It’s no secret their sweet boy is nearly insatiable. All those emotions and sensations, young Jack wants them all.

Dean answers with a slow, deliberate thrust of his hips up into the firm ass resting on his lap. He can get on board with this. The hand cupping Jack’s face trails down his neck, heat following its path. Rough fingers dance lightly over bony clavicle and exposed creamy chest where the too-big shirt falls off the boy’s shoulder. Dean’s gaze is drawn there, bare skin tantalizing, loves the hitched sound of Jack’s breathing under soft touches. 

Dean’s other hand works up a slim bare thigh, pushing under the loose tee and over soft cotton of Jack’s boxers, until he’s stroking warm, soft belly and ribs. Jack quivers around an open-mouthed sigh, lust zinging through him. Forest green catalogs every reaction. Calloused fingers slide over smooth, baby soft skin, inching higher. Jack’s blond head tilts back, deep inhale pushing his skinny chest out in invitation. Sweet gasp through pink lips when Dean’s fingers circle a nipple.

“Oh fuck, Dean,” sweet mouth moans dirty, and Dean can’t help but chuckle again at Sammy’s concern about Jack learning bad manners like drinking out of a bottle. Jack’s skinny ass grinds into the thickening cock underneath him as Dean plucks and rolls the puffy nub. He works his other hand under the tee, pinching and rolling both nipples, grinding up into the boy. Keening, shallow moans echo around the room as Jack’s nubs are twisted, pinched, then caressed. 

“Harder, please,” Jack gasps, hips circling.

“Mmmm, there you go Sweetheart.” Dean feels the kid’s hard cock rubbing against him, pink tip just poking through the slit in his boxers. Sweet little nipple slut can come just from having his tits played with. They’ve spent countless hours working Jack’s nips until they throb heavy, red and swollen. Geekboy Sam has a ruler that delivers the perfect pink sting across already sensitive nipples and Jack often begs for it, eyes glazed over with need. Dean’s always been more of a hands-on guy. 

Suddenly he wants to see. Now. “Off,” Dean demands, hands snagging the bottom of Jack’s shirt, lifting it over his head and tossing it aside. 

Beautifully darkened nipples stand out against miles of pale skin. Dean meets Jack’s smokey gaze as he pinches each nipple, pulls more harshly on the sensitive skin. Jack shudders when strong fingers gather flesh from above and below one perfect little tit, squeezing, pushing the tender nipple out further. Making an OK sign with his other hand, Dean delivers ten harsh flicks directly across the pinched nipple leaving Jack panting through his nose, eyes completely blown. Same treatment to the other nipple and Jack is keening, nearly falling off Dean as he desperately ruts against him.

“Hands behind your back,” Dean orders. Jack’s quick obedience thrusts his chest out further. Telegraphing his intent, Dean slowly leans, arms sliding around Jack’s back to hold him in place, melds plush lips around a fattened areola. Dean pulse sucks five times, suction getting stronger with each pull until Jack cries out, shaking and moaning. Quick breath and Dean captures the tight nipple with his teeth, gnawing on the abused flesh.

“Dean!” Jack deliberately twists his torso with Dean still latched onto the puffy flesh, pulling harder against the clamped teeth and reveling in the sharp burst of pain to his sore nipple.

“More?” Jack begs, vibrating. He eagerly turns the other nipple for the same treatment. Beard burn, bite marks, and hickeys litter Jack’s torso when Dean finally lifts his head watching his beautiful boy squirm. Jack’s hard cock bounces as the boy continues to grind his ass.

Dean offers an indulgent smile. “What do you want, baby?”

“Please,” he begs, concave tummy emphasizing puffy spit-soaked buds.

“Need to hear you say it, pretty boy.”

“Slap my tits,” Jack whispers, pushing his skinny chest out further.

Fuck. Dean knits the fingers of his right hand together a foot away from the writhing chest, catches Jack’s eye before soundly slapping the offered nip.

“Gahhhhhh.” Jack arches, moaning, “Oh fuck, yes. Again!”

Red streaks across his left nipple, vivid finger marks stand out against the pale skin even in low lighting. Jack’s pretty cock dripping pearly pre-come. Same tit, harder slap and Jack mumbles incoherently, uncoordinated rubbing, back and forth against Dean’s legs - small friction on his cock and hole. 

Three quick slaps alternating across both puffy red tits and Jack breaks with a moan. Lunging against Dean, he wraps his arms around strong shoulders, frantically rubbing nipples and cock against anything, everything. Soft, pretty mouth finds the hallow beneath Dean’s ear whispering between suckles, “Fuck me.”

Dean captures naughty mouth, tongue diving between bitten pink lips. Fingers snake into Jack’s silky hair, strong fistful pulls his head back so Dean can mark up his neck. Other hand skims down the boy’s back, inching under his elastic waistband, continuing further down between plump cheeks. A dry finger finds Jack’s blistering tight hole and pushes right in. Jack pushes back, forcing it deeper, clenching hot around it with a gurgled groan.

It’s an easy lift and flip for Dean to stand with Jack clinging, lays the boy on his back on the edge of the table. Knobby knees are pushed up, slim hips lifting to slide boxers down and off. Hazy eyes watch, breathless, holding legs tucked up into his chest as Dean unbuttons and unzips, pushing his own clothing down just enough to free his throbbing dick. Jack moans at the sight of Dean’s thick cock, rock hard and jutting.

Thick hands find soft inner thighs. Slow, deliberate push spreads trembling legs open exposing Jack’s pretty pink hole. Sweet, swift possessiveness rolls through Dean at the picture Jack makes, knees up, spread wide, tits a mess of markings Dean put there.

“Hold yourself open, Sweetheart,” Dean watches satisfied as Jack’s hands hook behind his knees, further spreading skinny legs and holding them there. “Fuck baby,” Dean mumbles, middle finger lightly circling the puckered webb. Jack writhes, hips lifting off the table. Mouthful of spit on and around the finger then the shallowest of pushes into the boy’s pretty slit. No more than the first knuckle of one finger thrusting in and out. Not because Jack needs the warm up, Dean loves hearing the kid beg.

“Deeper, please,” Jack moans, right on cue - head back, eyes closed, gyrations trying to push Dean further into his spread ass. Loud, increasingly desperate pleas are music to Dean’s ears as he works just the boy’s rim, massaging all those nerve endings, until Jack’s hole is a perfect puffy, glistening, hot pink. 

Kid lightning bolts off the table when Dean uses both hands to pull the rim open, leaning forward he lets spit drip down into the small, relaxed opening. He follows it with full tongue pushing deep, pulls out to gather more spit, then plunges back in. Jack’s hand wanders down to his slender cock, squeezes wet slime out the tip with each eager thrust of his hips against Dean’s mouth.

Straightening, Dean hocks into his hand then coats his thick cock. Jack bucks his hips, whines desperate when Dean doesn’t move fast enough. Fuck if Dean doesn’t love this kid. He catches Jack’s gaze, finally easing forward, tips into blessed tight heat. Dean grunts at the near painful grip of Jack’s hole clenching around him, the world narrows to his barely slick slide into Jack’s ass. Slow, easy pumps pushing deeper. 

Cheesy porn line but it’s true when Dean grunts out, “Fuck. Take it so good,” as he watches his full length slide into the kid’s sweet slit.

Jack barely hears Dean, flayed by the sweet burn of Dean pushing into him. Rough drag of spit-only cock more to Jack’s liking than Dean’s. Legs still hiked up around his ears, he works his ass on the pounding cock, rocks into every thrust. Little grunts and moans escape parted lips. 

The lead up and the burn have Jack on edge already when he gets his hands on his sore tits. Pinching, twisting, eyes glazed over. Dean’s hand wraps around his slender waist holding Jack in place as he pounds into the nearly too-tight ass. “Harder, sugar” Dean whispers, watching Jack’s long slender fingers twist tiny nubs.

Jack gasps, shaking his head, “Gonna…!” Nearly bucks off the table as Dean’s hand wraps around his bouncing cock working him in time with the dick pounding his insides. Strokes once, twice, three more and Jack’s shooting creamy white over his stomach, ass clenching unmercifully around the cock splitting him open. Dean quickly pulls out, works a handful of Jack’s come over his cock and plunges back into the spasming hole.

Slick glide makes it easier for Dean to thrust into the wriggling body. He pumps harder and faster until Jack’s just starting to wince with overstimulation. Dean pulls out, strips his cock with a deep groan and shoots all over Jack’s heaving stomach, cock, and gaping hole. 

Harsh breathing from both of them. Sweaty, slick with it. Hands lightly running over each other, wherever they can reach, as they come down. Dean is still snugged up between Jack’s spread legs, slowly circling his hips and dragging his spent cock around the boy’s nearly hairless pink balls. Dean pushes the tip of his dick softly in between them watching them part around his still hard cock.

“Mmmmm,” he says, can’t ever get enough of playing with Jack’s gorgeous body. Dean scoops come off Jack’s tummy and two-finger pushes it into the boy’s puffy fucked-out hole. Low moan from Jack puts a satisfied smile on the older man’s face. He repeats the process just to hear that sound again, then smears the rest of the combined come over the boy working it into his skin all the way up to his marked up nipples.

“Gross,” Jack weakly protests with a smile.

Dean smirks, arms bracketing the boy as he lays sprawled on the table. Dean goes down on his elbows, holds Jack’s face in both hands and kisses him long, slow, sweet. 

“Mmmm,” Jack murmurs. Warm, soft, afterglow. 

A few more lingering kisses then Dean’s heaving himself up so Jack can breathe. He looks around and grabs Sam’s discarded shirt, laughingly uses it to clean Jack off before gingerly tucking himself back into his jeans and zipping up. “Sam’s gonna be sorry he missed this,” he says with a grin at Jack, wriggling his eyebrows.

Jack’s still loose, pliant, sprawled on the table with legs hanging over the edge. Dean scoops him up, hands under armpits, pulls him back into his lap in the chair they started in. Jack tucks his head into Dean’s neck, warm hand stroking soft hair, resting together. Jack shuffles into a more comfortable position with a sigh, snuggles deeper into Dean. They breathe each other in.

Comfortable minutes pass before a now sleepy Jack sits up slowly, even with Dean’s heat he’s starting to get chilled. Jack reaches for Dean’s face, quick press forward for another soft kiss before they whisper together, “Let’s go check on Sam.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments welcome! Come find me on tumbler @andthenweburned


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